BOOM Burger ranks with Honest Burger as one of London's best. Wandering around Portobello one Saturday, enjoying the beautiful trustafarians and all the commotion we settled down outside BOOM burger's oddly-shaped corner concession.

On the way in we happened to pass George Osborne, who looked very frowny in his civvies, but oddly relaxed, like he had just managed to make a rushed escape from a photo op at a Haringey comprehensive. But scowling because one of the kids had managed to get some drool on his Oxfords on his way out. Reputed lizardman Osborne will have to get used to Uberpool now.

I have a masochistic habit of ordering wings at places that have no right to be serving them. I'm naively hoping to stumble upon wing valhalla, but am invariably disappointed. BOOM Burger set new standards in wing calamity.

What the fuck is this? The menu assured me the wings were marinated in house jerk sauce. This was totally undetectable. The only marinade they could possibly have been resting in was the earth's atmosphere.

But the burger. Oh the burger. Cooked rare, the BOOM burger was coated in a fantastic bacon and cheese jam, the sweetness rounding off the smoky preserve. Superb.